The Escort
by jakela
Summary: This fic was the result of a Secret Santa fic exchange organized by Carolinagirl919 and I was honored to draw her name. The prompt was: 'AU- John is an escort hired by lonely divorcée Joss Carter.' I'm posting the first chapter today and the next chapter will be posted tomorrow. Happy Holidays!
1. Chapter 1

The Escort

A/N: This fic was the result of a Secret Santa fic exchange organized by Carolinagirl919 and I was honored to draw her name. The prompt was: 'AU- John is an escort hired by lonely divorcée Joss Carter.'

I'm posting the first chapter today and the next chapter will be posted tomorrow. Happy Holidays!

Chapter 1

"I don't know who the hell he is, but he's not JCarter."

CEO John Reese stood next to his CIO Harold Finch as they watched a slim black man walk to his chauffeured limousine. Reese Security Enterprises had just given an exhaustive presentation in their luxurious executive boardroom to the purported head of JCarter, Jason Carter, a much smaller, but extremely profitable and well regarded private security firm, about a possible merger.

Earlier efforts to purchase the company had failed and a hostile takeover had been squelched, each attempt foiled neatly and decisively by a wily and skilled opponent, in ways that infuriated yet intrigued the RSE head.

He wasn't used to losing, and he also wasn't used to being ignored.

Jason Carter had never met with him, never spoke to him, never responded to any of Reese's entreaties personally.

His staff did, quickly, efficiently and politely turning down any and all requests for dinner, golf, a private retreat, even a quick call.

Mr. Carter was traveling, or in the midst of intense negotiations or conferring with government officials, they always said calmly, with just the right amount of regret in their voices to make it seem as though it wasn't his choice.

Occasionally a photo or a clip would surface in the media of Jason Carter deep in conversation with a client, offering advice or assurances, his eyes focused and intense.

Finally, after months of trying, the CEO of JCarter agreed to a meeting, but Reese knew within five minutes of meeting him, that Jason Carter was a fraud, a figurehead.

Whoever was in charge, it wasn't this man.

Reese's CIO nodded. "I have to agree, Mr. Reese. The man we met today is capable and intelligent, but he's –"

"He's not extraordinary, Finch. Whoever's in charge of JCarter is extraordinary. I want to find out who it is."

He turned to his CIO. "I need you to assemble the Shadow Board, Finch."

"It's already underway, Mr. Reese."

XXX

Several days later, a small group met in Reese's spacious office. As a global company, RSE had a conventional Board of Directors, but unbeknownst to them and the rest of his employees, Reese also had a small group of trusted associates, skilled in a variety of legal and illegal methods and techniques, to do what his other staffers couldn't, or shouldn't do.

"What do we know about Jason Carter?" Reese asked.

Finch brought up a photo on the large screen at the foot of the conference table. "Jason Carter is really Calvin Beecher, a former NYPD Detective. Mr. Beecher supposedly died over a decade ago in an ambush and approximately a year later, reemerged as Jason Carter."

Zoe Morgan raised an eyebrow. "His fashion sense must have died years before he did." The fixer nodded approvingly at the next photo, which showed Beecher as the impeccably tailored Jason Carter in a designer suit. Her eyes slid slyly towards the CEO. "He looks completely different. They do say clothes make the man, John."

Reese smirked at her. "He does seem well suited for it, Zoe." He turned to Finch. "What else do we know?"

"His fingerprints, DNA and blood samples, everything's been subtly altered to escape detection and his official biography is close enough to Beecher's to minimize any tells either in casual conversation or in something formal, like a lie detector test. It wasn't until I ran a search on African American NYPD Detectives who served around the same time that I found Mr. Beecher. Both men were reportedly in Narcotics and spent time in deep cover; the HR scandal virtually wiped out the entire department and any discreet entreaties we made about either man brought up nothing with current staffers.

Reese nodded. "Either they never met Cal Beecher or they're too busy keeping their heads down to make waves about the non-existent Jason Carter."

Finch then handed the remote to Zoe, who brought up a photo of an elegant townhouse in Brooklyn, part of an extensive planned neighborhood of businesses, luxury condos and restaurants reclaimed from an old industrial site along the river.

Her smoky voice became serious. "As you know, John, my focus is on what people want or need, what they covet. Jason Carter is single; he's been photographed with woman at high level events like White House dinners and Hollywood premieres, but those relationships don't seem to last. There were rumors that he has a long term relationship with someone, perhaps another man or a married woman, but none of those ever bore fruit. The one thing we did find is that he appears to visit this building on a regular basis, supposedly for staff meetings, but he always goes alone."

She smiled. "I had lunch with a former client the other day who lives in a nearby building." Her hand fingered her large purse. Zoe had an array of surveillance devices concealed inside. "Beecher/Carter's meeting space is well shielded, but I did manage to get this." She brought up a photograph of Beecher/Carter exiting the townhouse. As the photograph went through various enhancement and resolution filters, a figure appeared.

They could just make out the silhouette of a woman standing inside the doorway, her body partially obscured by Beecher/Carter's as he left the building.

Zoe smiled at Finch. "Harold was able to determine that's she was approximately 5' 4" and when he applied additional enhancements to the contrast of light and shadow, he extrapolated that she was a dark skinned woman, probably African American, with an above the shoulder haircut."

Next was a layout of the building. "No one fitting that description has been seen entering or exiting the building at any time, not just when Beecher/Carter was there, so we made a determination that she was accessing the building some other way."

Finch adjusted his glasses. "Like everything else, Mr. Reese, the records at the planning department had been altered. The townhouse site originally contained an old warehouse, which was also used for storage during Prohibition; there were tunnels under the building for the transport of banned spirits. The city's plans show those tunnels as being filled in, but obviously they had been put back in operation again. "

Zoe took the remote out of Harold's hand, but before she could click on the next slide, there was a low, deadly murmur.

"Hold up, I'm next."

Samantha Shaw strode into the room from the private elevator, clutching a meatball grinder in one hand and a large soft drink in the other.

"I was merely setting the stage for you, Sam, since your hands," Zoe grimaced as drops of tomato sauce dripped on the conference table, "seem to be full."

Finch handed Shaw a napkin, but winking at the CEO, she wiped her hand on her pants, and then flung herself into a chair. "Only need one finger, Zoe, to get the job done. Besides, _I'm_ the one who tracked her."

Reluctantly, Zoe slid the remote across the table, and Shaw pressed the 'Next Page' button.

"Harold monitored all the cameras near the building, 'til we got a figure fitting the description leaving an attorney's office."

The woman, face shielded by a wide brimmed hat, emerged with hundreds of other New Yorkers spilling out of buildings for the commute home, and disappeared into the crowd.

"She's good," Shaw said, her voice muffled as she took a huge bite of her sandwich, "but I'm better."

The next slide showed a small, beautifully maintained suburban home, and then a video started, showing a late model plain sedan pulling into a one car garage and the woman, hat shorn, finally appeared on the screen.

Smiling triumphantly, Shaw put her feet on the table. "Meet the real JCarter."

Reese leaned forward.

Curves.

Beautiful, glorious, incredible curves.

All he could think of was curves, as his eyes slowly scanned her image from head to foot.

She was stunning, absolutely stunning.

Her sleek bob framed huge brown eyes, sculpted cheekbones and full smiling lips. Her slim, yet strong shoulders led you to a tiny, nipped in waist and legs that seemed impossibly long for her petite frame. Her breasts were high and full, her hips swayed gently and as she entered her home a firm, sumptuous ass flexed enticingly as she leaned down to pet a large brown dog who came bounding out to greet her, then they both disappeared inside the house together.

Reese's hand slowly curved down the conference table.

"What's her first name?" he asked softly.

"Jocelyn – Joss." Shaw took a sip of her soda. "She's divorced, got one kid, a college freshman. Friends and family think she's some boring contracts legal eagle beagle. She was a homicide detective during the same time Beecher/Carter was, and word is, _she's_ the one who actually brought down HR. Finch has the goods on that."

Finch nodded. "As we know, the HR scandal revealed massive corruption across city government, all the way to the Mayor's office. Ms. Carter had cleared another detective, a William Szymanski, who had been accused of bribery, when he ran afoul of several HR members involved in a counterfeiting ring. Her work clearing him revealed that there was much more involved than a few rogue police officers. She began to dig, and HR targeted her."

Shaw cut in. "Yeah, they framed her for a bad shoot, demoted her, threatened her kid and then tried to kill her. She took 'em out in a firefight, captured the head guy, Alonzo Quinn." The tiny woman flashed a rare, broad smile. "She's a total badass."

"Yes, Ms. Carter is quite impressive," Finch agreed. "While the members of HR were being taken in, her life was still in danger, so the FBI decided to put her in seclusion, under the guise of her taking a leave of absence from the police force. I was able to uncover documentation that she volunteered to use her skills as a former Army interrogator on Mr. Quinn with," Harold smiled thinly, "favorable results."

"Favorable?" Shaw snickered. "She broke him like a twig. Quinn gave up everybody and anybody, including his own mother, who made coffee for his HR powwows."

Reese raised an eyebrow. "Was it _bad_ coffee?"

Finch gave both friends a quelling glance. "Ms. Shaw is correct in that Mr. Quinn provided testimony and documentation that completely supported what Ms. Carter had gathered in her investigation. He became the star witness, including providing evidence that Ms. Carter had been framed. Only a few people knew of Ms. Carter's actual involvement and she was more than willing to let them take the spotlight."

Reese's eyes gleamed in admiration. "She did it because it was it was the right thing to do, not to get fame or fortune. She wanted her good name back, wanted her _life_ back."

"Yes, you understand her completely, Mr. Reese. She left the force and using the law degree she obtained several years earlier, became the 'boring contracts legal eagle beagle' as Ms. Shaw so verbosely described her," he ignored Shaw mouthing the words, _'I'm verbose?'_, "at least on paper. A year later JCarter opened its doors with Jason Carter, who we now know is Calvin Beecher, at the helm."

"How did Beecher get involved with JCarter?"

"That…" Finch's lips pursed together, "we haven't been able to clearly determine yet. Beecher is Quinn's godson – apparently they were very close, but it does not appear that he was involved in HR. He was ambushed down by the docks by one of his confidential informants and two HR members. His body went in the river and was never recovered but there was enough blood to indicate that he had been mortally wounded…it's not clear how he survived or who helped him, but obviously, someone did."

"Ms. Carter." Reese sat back slightly. "What about Beecher and Ms. Carter? Were they…involved?"

Finch's eyes flickered over to his longtime friend. "They were involved when they were on the police force together, yes, John, at least for a short time."

"And _now, _Finch?" Reese asked, unable to keep the sharpness out of his voice. He abruptly stood up and walked over the wide bank windows from which he and Finch had watched Beecher/Carter day ago.

All three of his associates glanced at the tall CEO.

"_Now_, John, they appear to be friends and associates. Until a few days ago, Ms. Carter didn't seem to be involved with anyone."

Zoe smiled. "And that's when it gets interesting."

XXX

_**Several days earlier.**_

"Damn! Damn! DAMN!"

Carrying a bottle of wine in her hand, Jocelyn Carter stomped out to her back deck. Setting the bottle on a side table she flopped onto a lawn chair. "I can't _believe_ I was so stupid!"

Her Belgian Malinois, Bear, loped across the small lawn and joined her, putting his head on her knee. Absently rubbing his neck, Joss thought about how she had gotten herself into this mess.

Earlier that day there had been a reception for families of the incoming freshman class at the small, prestigious college just outside the city that her son Taylor was attending.

It had been a perfectly bittersweet kind of day, as Joss' grandmother would have called it, a day full of happiness – an outstanding student, Taylor had received a full academic scholarship to the college and already was getting into the swing of college life, and Joss' ex-husband Paul, who had battled through his demons and come out on the other side, had attended the reception as well, making it a true family moment – and sadness, as Joss accepted that her son truly had her own life now, and that while her relationship with Paul had ended years ago, and she no longer loved him, there was still the thought of what might have been.

Paul had left and Taylor was gone off with his new classmates as Joss decided to take a few minutes to collect herself before she drove back to the city. Bear had accompanied her today and the two sat on a wide veranda overlooking the college green, when a thin, arch voice sounded behind her.

"Well, well, well – look what the cat dragged in."

Kara Stanton.

Joss closed her eyes for a moment, then she turned around in her chair.

Great, she thought, Mark's here, too.

Kara and her husband, Mark Snow, sauntered over. Joss and Kara had gone to college together and she had crossed paths with the couple on several occasions over the years. They were cruel and ruthless opportunists and one of Joss' secret pleasures since starting JCarter, was slowly taking business away from their mercenary outfit, MarKara.

"Helping a laundromat owner set up a new 'Sit and Spin' must be more lucrative than I thought, or has your ex, what was his name, Peter, Patrick – _Paul_, finally get off the street and cough up some money?" Ms. Stanton smiled brightly, holding up a brochure. "Oh, that's right, your son got a full academic scholarship, due to, I'm sure, some special circumstances. That must be _such_ a relief."

Joss' smile was cold. "The criteria for the scholarship was spelled out in detail, Kara, to _all_ the applicants, including your son. Clearly, the selection committee made the right choice. And thank you, for asking about Paul, he's doing quite well now, as I'm sure you noticed."

As the two women talked, Joss could feel Mark Snow's dead eyes on her, openly leering at her body. While he and Kara were a team in business, their private lives were a different matter. Joss knew that the only reason they were together today was their son.

Kara shrugged, then her eyes glinted again. "Our sorority's getting together soon. Will you be rejoining us finally this year?"

"I'll be there." Joss had missed the last several years due to helping Cal work through an intense hostage rescue, drawn out negotiations with a new client and fending off Reese Security Enterprises attempts to take over her company. "It will be nice to catch up with everyone."

"Yes, it's always so good to hear about all the milestones – the marriages and divorces, especially. What about you, Joss, anything you'd like to share after all these years alone? Or is your _dog_ the only man in your life?"

Bear, who had been dozing on the ground next to Joss, suddenly raised his head, his eyes alert and watchful as Joss leaned forward in her chair.

"Bear's a good man, Kara. He's brave, honest –" her eyes flickered at Mark Snow "- _faithful_. But as wonderful as he is, he's not the only man in my life. You'll meet him on Friday."

"Someone _special_?"

"Yes, _very_ special," Joss nodded firmly.

"Well, something to look forward to, then," Kara murmured, and few minutes later, she and Mark drifted away.

Closing her eyes, Joss cursed again as she recalled the exchange.

There was no man in her life.

Joss hadn't had a date in over a decade.

Normally she would have fended Kara off easily, but this time she let Kara get under her skin and Joss knew why.

She was alone.

Joss had a wonderful son, a thriving business, the sense that she was making a difference in the world, but she didn't have someone to come home and talk to at night.

She'd been able to hide her loneliness while raising Taylor, but the house was empty now, and the emptiness inside her, the part that wanted to be loved and cherished again, had begun to gnaw at her.

A gruff voice lanced across the deck. "You drinkin' straight from the bottle, now Carter?"

Her next door neighbor, former partner and friend Lionel Fusco ambled over.

"What –" Joss sat up, chuckling as she glanced back into her kitchen. A glass of wine sat on the counter – she'd brought the bottle out instead. "When I tell you what I did, one bottle might not be enough."

He sat down beside her as she recounted the day, including her conversation with Kara.

"I don't know what got into me, Fusco. What I did was so stupid."

Fusco shrugged. "You're human, Carter, and Kara puts the B in Bitch. She's lucky you didn't shoot her – now _that_ would have been something _special_."

They shared a smile, then Lionel tilted his head at her. "Whaddya gonna do now, cancel?"

'No," Joss shook her head. "I'm gonna go. I'll just have to let Kara get her jollies for once."

Fusco sat there for a minute, then he turned to Joss with an evil, calculating grin. "Maybe not. I got an idea, Carter."

XXX

A/N: Our SWWoman used this technique in one of her wonderful Wolf tales, A Wolf Returns, and I borrowed, ok, stole it, for this section.

Shaw reached into her pocket and took out a fistful of candy and other treats. Spreading them out on the conference table, she unwrapped some bubble gum and began to chew noisily.

Finch recoiled slightly from the table, and Zoe sighed exasperatedly. "_Really_, Sam?"

"_Really_, Zoe." Shaw blew out a huge bubble, popped it, then wadded the gum up and slid her hand under the table.

Reese, who had rejoined the others, gave her a death stare. "_Shaw_."

"Sorry." She brought the gum back out, put it back in its wrapper and selected another treat. "I followed Joss Carter to her kid's campus this weekend. As Zoe said, this is where it gets interesting."

Shaw brought up a photo of Joss Carter's pet. "She's got this great dog – name's Bear. When we take over her joint, I want _him_ as part of my bonus."

A series of photos showed the dog and his mistress in a variety of settings. "They spend a lotta time together, at home, when she runs errands and stuff, and sometimes she even takes him to the law firm."

"Like I said, she's good. Trying to bug her home, office or car wouldn't work; she probably does regular sweeps and you gotta get access to plant 'em, which leaves you open to getting caught. But…" Shaw held up a small bug, "man's, or in this case, _woman's_ best friend is something else. Planted a bug on him during a reception for freshman families this weekend while I chatted with her for a few minutes and petted him. Figured she'd eventually find it, but in the meantime, we got more info."

Finch nodded. "And what we found out was especially illuminating."

Reese sat back, closed his eyes and listened. As he listened, a smile as evil and calculating as Fusco's spread across his face.

XXX

"Ian Murphy? _No. Way_!" Joss jumped up and began pacing the deck.

"It's what he does, Carter. He's like that guy on, uh, you know, that show _Sons of Anarchy_, Nero – he's a _'companionator'_. He rents out guys for a…variety of social purposes."

"'Social purposes'? You been reading his website, Fusco? He's a _pimp_!" Joss grabbed the wine bottle and took a healthy swig.

"A high class one. $10,000 a night minimum. And the client determines what happens over the course of the evening. It can just be dinner, or," Fusco waggled his eyebrows, "you can also order '_dessert_', too."

Fusco leaned forward. "Carter, you helped him years ago, back when you were a cop. Even had dinner with him, if I remember correctly. He wanted to date you."

Joss raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, he fed me a cock and bull story about his business – then I found out what kind of _cock_ he was talking about. We've stayed in touch – _talk_, occasionally," she hastened to add, "but that's all."

"Look, Carter, Murphy likes you, and he owes you. He's not going to steer you wrong. Give him a call."

Joss sighed, walking into the kitchen. "I've got his private number in my safe. I _can't_ believe I'm doing this!"

Fusco picked up the bottle and beckoned Bear. "Come on, buddy. You don't want to miss this."

XXX

Ian Murphy still had a flush of youth about him after all these years, Joss thought, which probably helped him be so successful.

His clients, wealthy women from all over the city, felt comfortable and safe with him. He was polite, charming, discreet, and he was able to mingle easily with anyone, discuss opera, the ballet, fine art, whatever a woman wanted to talk about.

His employees were rigorously trained to be the perfect companion, catering to their client's every need.

Including being the perfect lover.

"Joss," Murphy smiled as she walked into his apartment. "It's been too long." He took her hand, kissing her cheek.

Bear growled.

Murphy's lips quirked. "You know, you might not need me, Joss, if you left Bear at home occasionally."

Joss gave him that look. "Bear's a good judge of character, Ian."

Murphy laughed as he led them to his home office. "I can't argue with that, Joss."

They sat down and Joss explained what she wanted.

He nodded once she had finished. "No problem, Joss. I can provide you exactly what you want. You need a mature, engaging companion, someone who your sorority sisters believe that you've been seeing for a while, but not so long that the relationship has settled. You're still discovering each other, still getting to know each other. A guy who likes you, respects you, but," Murphy stood up, came from behind his desk and sat next to Joss, staring deeply into her eyes, his voice lowering to a whisper, "he also will shoot you a look over dinner that lets you, and everybody else know, that he's going to fuck your brains out tonight."

Joss felt her face grow hot. "Y-y-yes, um, that's a…good…description."

Bear flattened his ears, but he remained silent.

After a long moment, Joss took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. "What do we do next? We review your staff to make a selection or you pick someone out for me?"

"I've already made a selection, Joss. _Me._" He smirked at her. "We never did have a second date."

"Ian…"

"We can go as little or as far as you want. It's totally up to you." He tilted his head at her. "But I've been in this game for a long time, Joss, and I think it's time for you to kick up your heels a little. You deserve it," he added softly.

He stood up and went back behind his desk. "Now, tell me about your sorority sisters."

XXX

"Yes!" Shaw pumped her fist in the air. "CEO – Chief _Erection_ Officer! I _love_ it!"

"John," Finch was incredulous, "you can't seriously be considering this."

Zoe sat there with an enigmatic look on her face, then she smiled softly.

"Why not, Finch?" Reese's smile was broad now. "I've wanted to meet JCarter for months now. This is the perfect opportunity."

"As an escort, a male prostitute, a gigilo?"

"Gigilo?" Shaw snorted. "What is this, 1950? Get with it, Finch. Man whore is much more," she tilted her chin up, "_au courant_."

"We prefer the term sex trade worker, actually." Reese's smile faded and he looked at his three friends seriously. "Look, I'm going to do this. We have a lot to do over the next few hours, so let's get moving."

Nodding, Shaw and Finch departed via the private elevator, arguing as they departed.

Reese tilted his head at the fixer. "You have something to say, Zoe?"

Her soft smile returned again. "Finch is your friend, and Shaw is…whatever she is, but you and I have a different relationship."

Reese nodded. Years ago, Reese and Zoe had had a brief, highly enjoyable liaison, but they both decided that they functioned better as friends and associates. "You're right, we do."

"So I have to ask you, John: When was the last time you had a good old fashioned, sweaty, dirty, wonderfully nasty fuck with a woman you really wanted?"

"It's…been a while, Zoe," he answered honestly. In fact, Reese realized, it had been months since he'd been with anyone.

"I saw the way that you reacted to Joss Carter. We all did. Don't let business get in the way of… _bidness_, okay?" Squeezing his arm, Zoe left via the private elevator.

Alone, Reese sat back and looked at Joss Carter's smiling face on the screen for a long time.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

The Escort – Chapter 2

A/N: My apologies for the delay. I wasn't happy with this chapter and I rewrote it. There are also some hints to two characters that Carolinagirl919 asked for. I'm still working out how they'll fit in this story, so I'm planning for the next chapter to be posted on January 1.

She liked it, Sameen Shaw thought as she toured Ian Murphy's apartment.

The stark black, gray and white décor appealed to her; simple and clean, it made no bones about the man who lived here, and how he looked at the world.

Murphy's official office catered to his clients – rich and plush and sensual and welcoming, like the fantasy he was selling to them.

His home told you what it was really all about; a transaction, with clear, hard, firm edges.

Shaw's admiration for Joss Carter went up another notch – somehow she had broken through to the 'companionator' and made a lifelong impression on him.

The tiny woman slid into his office and unloaded a large backpack full of food.

"Yeah", she chuckled as she sat down at Murphy's desk, booted up his system and keyed in a series of passwords.

After cajoling, whining, threats of physical violence, and as a last resort, dangling a Cronut* over his keyboard until he begged for mercy, Finch had given Shaw access to Murphy's employee files.

There were databases and reviews, training schedules and class descriptions, client profiles and reading lists.

And a detailed summary of each employee: physical description, wardrobe requirements, unusual talents, fears and phobias – Shaw got that; can't send a guy with a fear of heights to some rooftop gala – everything Murphy needed to be able to match the right employee with the right client.

Even Finch had reluctantly admired the pimp's attention to detail and organizational skills.

Murphy would be home in a few hours to get ready for his date with Joss Carter, but in the meantime –

"Ooooh, baby…" Shaw breathed in slowly as she opened a file titled 'Measurements'. She unwrapped a chili dog, took a huge bite and began to read.

XXX

She hated them all, Kara Stanton Snow thought as her sorority sisters began walking into the soaring atrium of the luxury hotel where their reunion was being held tonight.

Kara always volunteered to supervise the decorations; she was good at it, and it gave her an opportunity to get to the event early, observe her victims and decide who would be her next prey.

As each woman walked in, Kara recalled every slight, every insult and catty remark, every whisper and veiled aside, every snicker and cackle of laughter, every look of shocked concern or outright pity, every bracing speech or murmured platitude.

These women had made her life a living hell.

Except Joss.

Perhaps that was why Kara hated her most of all.

The daughter of a prominent and wealthy Virginia politician, Kara's path in life had been laid out at an early age - college, marriage to someone from a list of pre-approved candidates and giving birth to a son that would lead the family business for a set number of years and then when the time was decreed, ascend to national prominence via public office.

As a young girl, she had chafed against the unfairness of it, but by the time Kara attended the same college her mother did, joined the same sorority her mother did, and dated the men from that list of pre-approved candidates, she understood how the world really worked, how power and prestige almost always won out over effort and intelligence, and she willingly and often gleefully accepted her role in it.

Kara knew that she could step outside that role, say and do things that would give others pause and she would be protected, that there was a certain freedom in not being seen as the beacon light of the family, as long as she did what was expected.

By the time her senior year in college approached, Kara had her life in order: a regular spot on the Dean's list and a poor student who actually wrote her papers; a fiancé from the top of the pre-approved list and a lover who introduced her to a variety of unique pleasures; a generous allowance and the ability to skip out on financial obligations with the softly murmured words about who her father was.

Then it all fell apart.

Kara's father was caught in a devastatingly embarrassing scandal, photos splashed across every newspaper in America, each one more shocking and lurid than the rest, until he was forced to resign from his political post.

Then it was revealed that there was no money, that there hadn't been money for a long time, that her father had used that same power and prestige to maintain a façade that collapsed like a house of cards.

Overnight, Kara went from everything to nothing.

Her fiancé 'regretfully' broke off the engagement via a letter from an attorney, her friends deserted her and her lover proposed that she fulfill her financial obligations by entertaining some of his friends, doing things that even she blanched at.

Her mother sold her jewelry to pay for Kara's tuition and back straight, head held high, Kara got a job in the college cafeteria.

Working for her classmate and sorority sister.

"I'm sorry for what happened to your family," Joss said simply, then she showed Kara her first assignment.

It was a mountain of dirty pots and pans.

Joss quietly explained the process and left Kara alone to work.

Kara didn't have to speak to anyone, didn't have to worry about breaking anything and she could sink her hands in scalding hot water and scrub, and scrub, and scrub.

Alone, surrounded by steam and suds, Kara finally let the tears of rage and sorrow fall.

With everyone else, Kara had maintained control, giving back as good as she got, or freezing people out, but this little girl, who had _nothing_, came from _nothing_, _was nothing_, somehow understood her.

Joss knew what Kara needed.

Joss had made her feel.

And Kara hated her for it.

The MarKara co-CEO jerked her head around the room, suddenly smiling as her latest victim flushed angrily and avoided Kara's eyes as she walked by; after her encounter with Joss last weekend, Kara had seduced the woman's husband, and as she always did, arranged for them to be caught in the act.

Kara would calmly produce a series of lurid and embarrassing photos of the man and tell the hapless couple her price for them not to be released.

No divorce; they had to stay married, they had to attend every reunion, and, most importantly, they had to pretend to be a happy couple at the event.

Seeing their anguished misery under the guise of domestic harmony every year was like an aphrodisiac to Kara; she would even welcome her husband Mark into her bed willingly on those nights.

Signing off on the delivery of more flowers, Kara wondered who this _special_ person was that Joss was bringing to the reunion.

Kara had attempted to seduce Joss' husband, Paul; in fact, she had tried more than once. He had rebuffed her each time, the last time even more galling because he and Joss were no longer married.

But now, she might get another chance.

Kara locked eyes with another one of her victims.

This reunion might be the best one of them all.

XXX

Ian Murphy realized he was whistling as the elevator climbed to his floor.

He chuckled. It had been a good day, and if all went well, an even better evening.

Joss Carter.

Joss, Joss, Joss, Joss Carter.

Ian didn't fool himself; as a young punk, he thought he'd have a chance with her, but he knew that their paths were different.

He wasn't a good man, but she had helped him do a good thing; save his son Alex.

Joss had helped Ian get Alex away from his drug addicted girlfriend, Dana.

He'd never forget how Joss brought them to her place, how she made a confused, frightened little boy smile and how Taylor, with a quiet understanding in his eyes, had handed Alex his cherished teddy bear, the two five year olds falling asleep in Taylor's bed, curled up together.

Joss had helped Ian place his son with a caring older couple; three weeks later, Dana died, burning to death in the same house that Ian and Joss had rescued Alex from.

Alex was now a healthy and happy college freshman, who over the years had enjoyed baseball games and fishing trips with a family friend who had known his mother.

No, he and Joss weren't meant for each other, but they could enjoy some time together.

He didn't have to pretend with her, and that alone was enough.

Of course sleeping with her, Ian smiled, would definitely be a bonus.

Joss was beautiful, talented and relentless.

He'd love seeing those attributes in a totally different arena, writhing beneath him.

His nose wrinkled as he entered his apartment.

_Chili. _

He smelled chili.

No signs of a break-in and no alarms were tripped.

On very rare occasions, an unhappy customer or furious spouse would storm into his official office, but they never visited his home; few people knew where he lived, even his senior staff thought it was another location.

Ian adjusted his sleek bulletproof vest, touched his gun.

Cautiously, he made his way to his home office.

"Cock length, you really measure their cock length? This stuff is all true?"

A small, dark haired woman was sitting at his glass desk, which was strewn with the remains of enough food to choke a horse, including judging by the wrappers, three jumbo chili dogs.

"Truth in advertising, Ms. –" Murphy raised his eyebrows.

"Shaw, just call me Shaw." She shrugged as she leaned back in his chair. "Yeah, I can see it. Most guys tend to..._stretch_ the truth about that. But do the women care?"

"Some do, some don't. It's like anything else; some like a single serving, while others," he glanced at the huge cup on his desk, "prefer a Big Gulp. But as I said, it's truth in advertising – part of the _'package'_," Murphy smirked as he quickly assessed her; she didn't seem to be an angry significant other or appalled family member, and she damn sure wasn't a potential customer. Aside from trashing his desk with wrappers, crumbs and empty containers, the rest of his office was pristine, including his computer system on a side table. "My clients spend a lot of money and they expect me to be thorough; this is part of it."

He tilted his head at her. "You work for one of my competitors, Ms. – I mean, Shaw? Looks like you spent a rather _lengthy_ time checking out my employees. How much are they paying you- I'm sure we can work something out," he gave her the dazzling smile that he'd spent hours in the mirror perfecting, "to our mutual _satisfaction_."

Her eyes glinted. "Nope. I'm actually here for you," her gaze flickered at his crotch, "_big guy_. You have plans tonight; I'm here," her low voice became deadly, "to change those plans."

Before Murphy could react, she used her legs to propel his desk up and forward, striking him in the chest and ramming him backwards, knocking the wind out of him. As he fell to his knees, Shaw catapulted in the air, somersaulting over the desk and landed with her legs around Murphy's neck.

She squeezed.

The last thing Murphy saw before he passed out was her crotch in his face.

"Yeah, I knew it," he heard her chortle as his eyes closed. "All talk, _noooo_ action."

XXX

Where the hell was Ian, Joss thought.

She'd managed to get her room changed to a small suite; two bedrooms with a shared bath. The hotel was in the midst of converting interior room doors to fingertip controls and the bellhop had cautioned her that while the sensitivity levels were adjusted, bedroom and bathroom doors might pop open unexpectedly if you brushed up against the small, glowing panels that governed their operation.

He smiled at her worried expression. "It's just a precaution, ma'am; our patrons haven't reported any serious problems, and besides," he winked at her, "it could be fun."

Yeah, right, Joss thought as she unpacked. Now she had to worry about Ian seeing her picking lint out of her navel or scratching her ass.

This was getting better and better.

Joss pulled out several pieces of lingerie. She'd hurriedly bought them at the last minute, wondering as she held up each item against her body in the small boutique, whether or not she was really going to go through with this.

Ian said it was up to her. They could go as little or as far as she wanted.

Joss sighed. She couldn't deny the spark of desire Ian had lit when he looked so deeply into her eyes.

He was right. It had been too long and she was ready.

It wouldn't relieve the gnawing emptiness, but it would dull it a little, at least for one night.

With her mind made up, Joss left the room and joined her fellow sorority sisters at the opening reception. It was great catching up with them after not attending the last few reunions and Joss relaxed and enjoyed herself.

But now the clock was ticking, significant others were arriving and Kara was eyeing her with a nasty smirk on her face. Joss had stepped away and tried calling Ian, but it went to voice mail and he hadn't left her a message.

Where was he?

His space in his apartment parking garage was empty and Fusco confirmed for her that Ian's GPS was active; his car was on the highway.

Joss couldn't wait much longer. People were talking about going upstairs to change for dinner and she knew she needed to leave soon.

Feeling ridiculous, Joss stepped outside and scanned the parking lot.

Nothing.

She was overreacting; traffic was always a nightmare on Friday nights – he was just running late.

He'll be here, she thought, he'll be here.

Joss shut her eyes for a moment, then walked back in.

XXX

John Reese was in a secluded part of the parking lot, waiting.

Shaw had reported that Ian Murphy was secured. Finch had altered the GPS on Murphy's car and the cameras in his parking garage to make it seem as though he had left and was en route in case anybody checked.

Reese knew that he had to wait until the reception was almost over to enter the hotel. Catching her off guard at the last minute would reduce her options; he didn't expect her to make a scene, but he needed to rattle her a little bit to get her to do what he wanted.

He couldn't deny the jolt he felt when she stepped outside; a light breeze ruffled that shining bob and her brow crinkled adorably as she scanned the parking lot. Reese wanted to run his fingers through her thick locks and he wondered if her brow crinkled the same way as she reached the point of no return in bed, but he pushed those thoughts aside.

He wasn't here for that.

"_So I have to ask you, John: When was the last time you had a good old fashioned, sweaty, dirty, wonderfully nasty fuck with a woman you really wanted?"_

Zoe's smoky voice echoed in his mind.

Reese wanted Joss Carter, knew that from the moment he saw her.

But Jocelyn Carter wasn't a woman who you just fucked.

He imagined the fixer's silvery laughter and Shaw's sarcastic snort.

'Why? Because you think she's one of those white picket fence types, John? That she'd want more than just a roll in the hay?' he could hear Zoe saying with an elegantly raised eyebrow.

Shaw would roll her eyes at him with even more than her usual disdain. 'Newsflash, John: 'White picket fence types' – does anybody even _have_ a white picket fence anymore - like to fuck, too.'

Alone, sitting in his office, gazing at her face on the screen, Reese knew it wasn't that Jocelyn Carter would want more that was bothering him.

It was that somewhere, deep inside, so deep that he thought it didn't even exist, Reese knew that he'd want more.

And that terrified him.

He watched her turn and walk inside the building.

It was time.

Jocelyn Carter had been playing a game where she made all the rules, but that was about to change.

Carrying a garment bag over one shoulder, Reese headed towards the hotel.

XXX

Turning to walk towards the elevators, Joss cursed to herself, as Kara began walking towards her with a smile like she'd just won the lottery.

"Sorry I'm late, Joss, my meeting ran over."

Joss turned around.

_What the hell?_

Joss fought not to react as the tall, dark haired man crossed the atrium and gently kissed her on the cheek.

She knew who he was.

John Reese.

John Fucking Reese.

The man who was trying to take her company away from her.

The RSE CEO kept almost a low profile as she did, but his photo was in their annual report and other key company documentation and Joss had made it her business to learn as much as she could about the man trying to take over JCarter.

Seeing photos and watching clips of John Reese was one thing; seeing him in the flesh…

It was like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

Joss knew if there was a chair nearby, she would have stumbled over to it to sit down.

She jammed her feet into the carpet to keep her legs from trembling.

He moved with a smooth, almost panther like grace, his blue eyes focused on her as though she was the most important thing in the world. His soft voice caressed her like a summer breeze, and as he leaned forward to kiss her cheek, Joss felt his masculinity cloaking her, enveloping her body as though their limbs were entwined, even though he had barely touched her.

Slipping his arm lightly around her waist, his lips grazed her ear. "Ian couldn't make it. I'm filling in..._JCarter,_" he whispered seductively.

Oh, he's good, Joss thought, he's _really_ good.

She slid her hand along his arm, trailing her fingers up his jacket sleeve, feeling the strong muscles flexing underneath.

You want to play, she thought, I can play, too.

Turning her head to look at him with a dazzling smile, Joss hissed without moving her lips, _"Upstairs."_

His eyes lingered on her mouth. "With _pleasure_."

Keeping his arm around her waist, John Reese turned her around so that they could begin heading towards the elevators.

"It's been a long time, John."

Joss wanted to scream as Kara stepped forward, arm extended.

Her eyes flashed towards Joss, and for a moment, there was a flicker of grudging admiration, but that quickly vanished and she focused all of her attention on the man beside Joss.

He took his arm from Joss' waist to shake her hand. "It has been a while, Kara, almost twenty years. Mark is well?"

"He's good. Upstairs conducting a conference call with a new client. As you know, John, there's never any down time in our business."

"Glad to hear MarKara's doing well."

"Yes, we'll have to compare notes – I'm sure there are some things we can collaborate on…if Joss can spare you for a few minutes tonight, we can catch up, and you also can tell me all about how you two managed to meet…" her eyes flickered dismissively towards Joss, "I wouldn't think that you travel in the same circles."

His arm slid around Joss' waist again. "Joss and I just…_connected_. Some things are meant to be, right, Joss?" he purred as he turned to look at her.

Joss looked at him adoringly. "Right, John. Some things just _are_."

"We'll see you in a while, Kara," he smiled.

They headed towards the elevator.

XXX

God, she was beautiful, Reese thought as the elevator doors closed.

Her hair smelled like jasmine, her skin felt like silk, her waist was even tinier than he'd imagined and as his arm slid around her, the tips of his fingers grazed that sumptuous ass.

She had echoed his play with speed and agility, and when she ran her hand up his arm, Reese couldn't help but think of her hands trailing across his body.

As her eyes burned with fury, Reese knew that Jocelyn Carter would be incredible in bed.

But the only games he wanted to play with her, at least right now, was the conversation he would have with her, in her – Reese smirked – _their_ hotel room.

"You can let go of me _now_," she snarled.

"Just maintaining that _connection_, Joss," he smiled.

Her smile was feral. "The only connection I want to make is my _fist_ to your face, while I beat you senseless."

Reese leaned forward again, whispering in her ear. "Careful, _Counselor_…some men like to be…beaten." Leaning back, his eyes lingered on her mouth. "And I'm sure you're very good at making men lose their senses."

She blinked at him and didn't say anything.

Your move, Joss, he thought as the elevator door dinged.

XXX

Kara watched them walk away.

It had been twenty years, but Kara hadn't forgotten what it was like to be in bed with John Reese.

She imagined it was even better now, all that passion and intensity enhanced with knowledge and experience.

John had two things that Kara wanted now.

She wanted his body and she also wanted his help.

MarKara was in trouble: while the company was still profitable, they had lost several key clients recently.

An agreement with their chief investor was coming to a close, and he expected payment, either in cash, or in ways that made Kara shudder with fear.

RSE, with its vast resources, could send clients their way, invest or even give them a low interest loan to get their dangerous creditor off their back.

And Kara knew that if even a rumor about, she smiled, a _connection_, with John's company would give MarKara much needed cachet and secure new clients.

Plus, there was something about those two…

Kara couldn't deny the strong sexual connection between John and Joss; you'd have to be totally incapacitated not to sense it, and her comment about the two not traveling in the same circles wasn't off base – John ran a multi-billion dollar company and while Joss' little legal firm did well, it wasn't even in the same stratosphere.

Still, people did meet, and somehow John and Joss had.

But Kara had spent a long time observing couples while she was selecting her next victim, and there was something about those two that just didn't fit. It wasn't anything that she could put her finger on, but there _was_ something there.

And Kara couldn't wait to find out what it was and bust it wide open.

*_From the Dominque Ansel Bakery website: Taking 2 months and more than 10 recipes, Chef Dominique Ansel's creation is not to be mistaken as simply croissant dough that has been fried. Made with a laminated dough which has been likened to a croissant (but uses a proprietary recipe), the Cronut™ pastry is first proofed and then fried in grapeseed oil at a specific temperature. Once cooked, each Cronut™ pastry is flavored in three ways: 1. rolled in sugar; 2. filled with cream; and 3. topped with glaze. The Cronut™ pastries are made fresh daily, and completely done in house. The entire process takes up to 3 days._

_There is only one flavor of the Cronut™ pastry every month. Here are the flavors we've had: May – Rose Vanilla; June – Lemon Maple; July - Blackberry Lime; August – Coconut; September - Fig Mascarpone; October- Apple Creme Fraiche; November – Salted Dulce de Leche; December -Valrhona Chocolate Champagne; January – Peanut Butter Rum Caramel; February – Raspberry Lychee; March – Milk & Honey (with hint of lavender); April – Passion Fruit Caramelia; May – Blueberry Lemon Verbena; June – Strawberry Balsamic and Mascarpone; July – Morello Cherry with Toasted Almond Cream; August – Yellow Peach Black Tea; September – Bosc pear & Sage; October – Pumpkin Chai; November – Caribbean Rum Raisin. For December, it is Valrhona Dark Chocolate Raspberry (with a splash of Chambord)._

_Please eat the Cronut™ pastry immediately as it has a short shelf life. And if you do cut, please use a serrated knife, so as not to crush the layers. Never refrigerate these treats as the humidity from the refrigerator will cause them to go stale and soggy. Since the Cronut™ pastries are filled with cream, we do not recommend serving them warm or hot._

Need I say more – poor Finch didn't have a chance! A single Cronut retails for $5.


End file.
